


New Things To Try

by Persevere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persevere/pseuds/Persevere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin Hayes is on a relatively simple hunting trip when things go awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch.1

Great, another rundown house full of God knows what. Infested with rats and damn spiders I bet. Christ, I hate those things. Why do they need to exist? They don't, they are unnecessary to have running around on their spindly little legs. Why do I do this, I could have my own place, somewhere nice and quiet. Instead, here I am. In front of this huge abandoned house.  
All of this runs through my mind while this building towers over me. It was probably really nice at some point; the shutters white and freshly painted, the beige siding bright and free from dirt and grime, the door a brilliant crimson and the knob a polished bronze. Instead of that I see paint peeling off of every surface availble to the wind and weather, the door faded and no longer a beautiful shade of red and once I lay a foot on the wooden step up to the entrance I almost fall through. Luckily I catch myself on the railing, but that too is easily pushed over with a slight nudge.  
I sigh aloud and carefully select where I place my next foot so I don't fall into a hole and end up hurting myself. The past few jobs I've had included a place like this, so I'm pretty experienced when it comes to not injuring myself. I need to be ready for a fight when I set foot in this place. I'm not really sure what to expect other than that; a fight. There wasn't much research to be done before heading here, I wish I knew more.  
I had read in the papers that this was the optimal place for teens to visit on the weekends, and visit they did. The one thing that these idiot kids did not do is return home. They'd come here looking for trouble, hearing from their friends that "an evil spirit resides here" or some nonsense about ghosts and whatnot. It'd be nice if it were nonsense, but it isn't. That's why I'm here in the first place. I don't want any more clueless children getting killed because they don't know what's out there.  
I was taught to never go to places like this one. I knew what was lurking behind these walls; I knew why I should avoid them at all costs. All that talk about demons, vampires, and other monsters are all valid. Your favorite scary story to tell around the campfire? It's most likely based on a real creature. A creature that is probably sneaking around in the shadows while you laugh with your friends about how ridiculous the notion is that the story you just relayed to them is, in fact, true.  
I've taken it upon myself to get rid of these monsters. I'm not the only one with the same thought, there are quite a few of us out there. We call ourselves Hunters, we seek out your worst nightmares and put them to rest. This job does come with its disadvantages though. Not many people make it far in this career, it's pretty dangerous. You have to move around a lot too, you'd probably stay in the same town for a week at the most. Relationships? Ha, how funny. Others only slow you down. Friends, lovers, or anything of that nature only ups your chances of getting killed. My success rate is one hundred percent, for now anyway. This could be my first failure, you never know when it comes to this kind of thing. I doubt that though, this is just a simple ghost ganking, I've done it a thousand times. It's routine by now.  
I look back towards the street, my black 1970 Dodge Challenger barely distinguishable in the moonlight and turn back to the house. I slowly open the door, its creak fills the air. Then I step inside hoping that it'll be less chilly, but alas, this house is haunted. It's bound to be colder than the temperature outside. I shut the door behind me and pull my coat closer around myself and grip my shotgun tighter, preparing myself for what could come next. So far so good. I take a few steps forward, the floorboards groaning under my weight, still no sign of the poltergeist. I explore the first level of the house further to no avail. This thing doesn't want to come out and play. I turn a corner and find the stairs up to the second story and decide to climb up them to see if my luck is any better up there.  
Jesus, it's freezing. My teeth chatter and my breath becomes visible on its way out. I hug my gun tighter to my body and listen for any signs of the undead. Silence. Not a single thing could be heard except my breathing and the soft beat of my heart. A door up ahead was ajar, so I raised my gun up and positioned my finger on the trigger. I slowly inched toward the door and cautiously pushed it open with the tip of the gun, and peeked my head inside. Still nothing. What the hell? Am I in the wrong house? This was the only creepy ghost-like house on the block, so I can't be. There were papers strewn about the small room and a small window letting in only a small portion of light from the flickering street lamp outside because of the filth lining the glass. I leaned down and carefully picked up a paper to get a better look at it, it was rubbish. Just an obituary cut out of a newspaper. Nothing that I hadn't seen before, there wasn't anything about where this sorry soul was buried. I turned for the door and heard something.   
It was the sound of two feet sliding against wooden floors. Finally, some action around here. I was starting to lose hope in this old place. I slowly walked to the stairs to limit the noise I'd make, and looked down into the hallway leading up to them. Again, there was nothing. How boring. This guy is one elusive bastard. I rub my temples with the tips of my fingers, annoyed. All I need are your bones, is that too much to ask? There was an audible creak behind me but before I could get a better look at it something forces me down the stairs. I plummet down, and land awkwardly in a jumbled pile of disarrayed arms and legs. I see a faint outline of a man, taller than me, rush into the room where I was and look over at me before shooting his gun up at whatever had so rudely thrown me down the stairs, then my vision went black.


	2. Ch.2

"Hey... hey. Are you okay? Wake up." I hear a gruff voice say, my body being shaken somewhat violently. The last thing I remember is blacking out, now some guy has his hands all over me.   
"Mmff..." I meant to say, Hey, buddy. Get your grubby hands off of me. I'm fine, you lunatic. But "Mmff" is all that came out. I hope I can still talk. I don't think I bit my tongue off or anything when I fell.   
He smiled over at me, "You must've fallen pretty hard, huh? I saw that gun of yours, you wouldn't happen to be a hunter would you?" He looked at me with striking green eyes hoping for an answer.  
"What? Yeah, I'm a Hunter. That's pretty obvious." I snapped. "Oh God, my head." I say bringing my arms up to try and do away with some of the searing pain coursing through my skull. After a few seconds it fades and I can think clearly again.  
"Like I said, you fell pretty hard." The man said, reaching for my head. "Yeah, you've got a little knot here. But if it makes you feel any better I salted and burned that son of a bitch's bones, so he won't be back to push you down any more flights of stairs." He said with a grin, his perfectly white teeth unmistakable behind his full, pink lips.   
Bewitched by his features I mentally shook my head and pushed his hand away from me and tried to stand up, but I couldn't. I was in a seat of some kind. I quickly looked around and found that I was in a car, his car. "Where are we?" I ask, suddenly reaching for a knife I keep under my shirt in case a situation like this would arise.  
"You," He paused, "are lucky enough to be a passenger in my car. An Impala actually, 1967." He answered, rubbing the leather of the seat, proud of his possession.  
"Yes, but where." I say, a little irritated. "Also, who are you?" This mystery man just showed up to that house and rescued me from my certain death, I'd like to know a little bit more about him.  
"Ah, well we're outside of my hotel room. We'd just gotten here and I didn't really want to just throw you over my shoulder and head inside so I tried waking you up." He said bringing his attention back to me. "My name's Dean Winchester." He continued with a dashing smile. Damn that smile of his...  
"You should've just left me there, I would have woken up eventually." I tell him, trying to outstretch my arms in this confined area. "You gonna invite me inside, or am I supposed to make the first move?" I say with a bored look on my face.  
He raised his eyebrows and flashed that wonderful grin of his, and opened his door and stepped out. He walked around his car and came around to my door and held it open for me. "After you."  
"What a gentleman." I say, stepping out of the car and avoiding touching him. No need to make any additional body contact, no matter how tempting this guy is. He closes the door behind me and heads to the front door to, what I'm guessing, is his room.   
"Ladies first." He says, opening the door and gesturing towards it. Inside I could see two beds, freshly made, and a table that didn't look too sturdy for all the weight on it, even if it was just a laptop. There was also a couch in the middle of the room, its fabric frayed at the edges. I was used to staying in rooms a lot like this one. If you were on a job you didn't need a very high-end place to stay since you'd only be accommodating the small, unimpressive place for a few hours at the most, so there was no need to be flashy with where you were sleeping.  
"How'd the job go?" Said a man with rather long hair sitting in a chair parallel to the feeble table without so much as a glance at the door. This man dwarfed his makeshift desk, he had to be over six foot at least.  
"Well, I'm not six feet under with a broken neck, so I'd say pretty good, Sammy." Dean told the altitudinous man in the seat, his voice had a humorous edge.  
Now this Sammy looked up from his electronics and saw me. "Oh, Dean... did you really have to bring a girl home now? It's pretty late for that kind of thing, don't you think? Plus we have work to do and-"   
Dean tried to cut him off with a raised hand but the taller man went too far. "Yeah... Yeah! Whoa! Hey there." He said quickly. "She's like us. I mean... I met her at that old house. The ghost threw her down some stairs so I thought it would be a good idea to make sure she doesn't have a concusion." He said explaining himself and folding his arms over his chest. Ah, so he brings random ladies home, is that it? A player and a hunter. This guy is pretty damn interesting.   
"So you have no ulterior motive whatsoever?" Said Sam, his face cortorted with exasperation. "Dean, everything you do has a double meaning, and it's usually something that'll help you get into some girls' pants." Wow, his hair really is long. it's so distracting. I wonder how he can see with all of that mess hanging in front of him. Nonetheless, he was actually not that bad looking. I mean, he was no Dean Winchester, but he was something alright. Sam scooted his chair back and got up, now I could see his true height. This guy was massive. I'm not sure how he even got in the door.  
"Sam." Dean said, his voice booming. He looks pretty irritated, they act like brothers or something. They don't look very similar though. This is getting us nowhere. I need to break these guys up.  
I clear my throat and try to be audible enough to stop their bickering. "Well boys. It's been a pleasure, it really has, but I need to get going." I say backing away from the two and heading in the direction of the door. I need to get back to my car and away from these two. Like I said, others only slow you down. I don't need any partners in the work that I do. I'm suprised that the both of them have made it this far.  
"Sorry." Sam said. "What's your name?" He asked. I stopped heading backwards to try and act polite. Maybe if I was nice enough they'd just escort me back to that house and I can be on my way.  
"Oh yeah. I never asked you that, did I?" Added Dean. If he's so interested it probably would've been a good idea to ask me my name. These two don't look like they could do much harm to me; they seemed innocent enough. I guess it wouldn't hurt...  
I look between the two of them. "I'm Erin." I say, sounding a little bigger than I felt. It's not everyday that you meet two fairly attractive hunters around your age. I should've used a fake name. Damn.   
"No last name?" Dean asks. Oh, right. Last name. Almost forgot. I stride forward, away from the door. Dean had moved closer to his brother, they were about am arm's length apart now.  
"Hayes. Erin Hayes." I tell the both of them. No turning back now. They have my name. Hopefully I can leave soon and get far away from this town, and these two. Nothing good can come from this. Dean looks pleased, and Sam has a slight smile on his face.   
"Well, Erin. I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam." The shorter man said. So, they are brothers. That makes sense. "And we're the Winchesters."


	3. Ch.3

I inclined my head, "Sam and Dean." I repeated. "Brothers that hunt together, stay together, huh?" I said, a bit curious as to how these two were still alive. I've known a few people like them. Most recently, it was a brother and sister. They had hunted together for the most part of two years. But one day a hunt went awry, the brother intended to save his sister, but he was the main cause of her demise. Now that boy is a sour old man still trying to take his revenge on his deceased sibling. Hunting is one sure fire way to rip families apart.   
The two share a look. A look that says 'We've been through a lot together in a short period of time.' Sam answers my question, "Yeah. Something like that." While Dean turns and heads for a fridge that I didn't notice before and pulls out three beers. One he tosses to his brother, the other he throws to me. Thankfully I catch it, the bottle frigid in my grasp. For a crappy old motel, the fridge works pretty well.   
A look of surprise with a hint of interest swept Dean's face. "Quite the reflexes you've got there." He mused. "How long have you been in the business?" He inquired, taking a seat on the decrepit couch, eliciting a blatant high-pitched sound when his weight was applied. Gee, what a question. I don't think I can remember that far back...  
I furrowed my brow and thought for a second. "For as long as I can remember." I said finally. "My story is about the same as everyone else's." I go on, "Family brutally murdered by some type of monster. Me, grieving, thinking that I could avenge their deaths." I said grimly. "Just the same story with a different tune." I add trying to lighten the mood I'd just set.  
Sam returned to his seat at the table, still facing me and said, "I'm sorry to hear that." An apologetic look on his face. I've seen that look a thousand times before. It's always the same. People take pity on me knowing that my parents are dead and that I have no family remaining to comfort me when something terrible happens. I've really gotten tired of that expression. Dean's face was the same way. He just gave a nod of acknowledgment. His face solemn.  
"It happened a long time ago. I'm over it." I claim, although you can never really get over the fact that you're the only family that you have left. I took a seat next to Dean and popped the cap off of the beer that had been launched at me. "What about you two? Been doing this for long?" I say after taking a drink. Dean shifted beside me and opened his drink and took a rather large sip.  
"Well, I have. I've been doing this practically almost ever since I've been born." He said shrugging his shoulders. "But Sammy here, he's been with me for... what? Few months maybe?" He said looking over at his brother. "Yeah, well he's pretty good for a beginner." Dean gestured towards his brother with the tip of his bottle. Months? No wonder they aren't dead yet. They've only just begun. I'm guessing Dean is the older of the two.  
"You wouldn't be interested in working a case with us, would you?" Sam asked, sort of hesitant. I started to object but he hastily added, "It'd only be this once. You look like you're pretty skilled, and we need a couple of extra hands on this one." Sam looked at me, expectant.  
"Don't drag her into this, we'll be fine." Dean cut in. Well, with that attitude I might as well...  
"Come on, Dean. We need all the help we can g-" Sam started.  
But I interrupted, "You know what? Yeah, I'll help out." Only this once. These two can probably handle themselves just fine.  
Dean turned to me, dumbstruck. He looked like I had just signed a deal with the Devil himself. Sam on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear. "Great, we'll leave in the morning. You can spend the night here if you want." Sleep in a room with two guys that I barely know, right. Like that'll happen.  
"It's late, and unless you feel like walking one hundred twenty miles back to your car, I suggest you crash here." Dean knew that I wouldn't agree to that, but he had a good point. I finished off what remained in my bottle and set it on a table nearby where I was sitting.   
"Fine, I'll sleep here." I sighed. "But there's two beds and one couch. I sincerely hope that you don't think that I'll be using this couch." I say brushing the hair off my shoulders. "You two can figure out who will be sleeping where, but I'm taking that bed." I tell them. The beds are probably no more comfortable than the couch, but I still don't want to sleep on it. Sam kind of needs the bed, he wouldn't fit on the small couch.  
Dean instantaneously said, "Dibs on the bed." Then he promptly rose from his seat, plopped down onto the mattress, and positioned his arms behind his head, his eyes closed, smiling to himself. Sam exhaled and slowly got out of his chair and moved over to the side of the bed where Dean was and yanked the pillow out from under him. With nothing to support him but his hands his head fell back and collided with the headboard. "Agh." Dean grunted and scowled at the back of Sam's head since he had already turned around and was heading towards the couch.   
I snickered at the two's little quarrel and moved off the couch so that Sam could lay down. Dean had gotten up to get a spare pillow from a closet adjacent to the two beds. "But I don't have anything to sleep in." I say aloud.  
"Then don't sleep in anything. It's fine by me." Dean answered as soon as I got my sentence out, his elbows propping himself up on the bed looking over me with his hazel green eyes. I rolled my eyes and kicked my boots off. Then I got into bed with my jeans still on, the only thing bare are my two feet. Dean just rolled over onto his side, facing the wall and said, "Your loss." And a distinct sigh could've been heard from Sam.


End file.
